Some of you have inquired about how my interview today went. I thought, in the interest of letting you all know how it went, I’d give you an overview here.
First, the players.
There’s me, DarcKnyt. I was the Nervous, Edgy, Caffeinated, Knyt – The Interviewee-Employee-wannabe. NECKTIE for short henceforth. I had an interview with the IT Director of a law firm with many names in the title. You know the kind … where, by the time the person on the phone finishes telling you who you’ve called, you’ve forgotten why you called. In short, the techboss.
The Smooth, Unflappable, Intimidating Techboss – henceforth SUIT for short. A man about a decade older than me, with classic grown-up geek hair and a solid-white scruff of beard rolling over his pasty face. Clearly he rose through the ranks from tech to techboss.
Before the interview, though, I had to deal with the quarter-inch thick wall of ice covering my car. My 12-year old car. I scraped, pounded and swore at the ice for about half an hour, but it finally came off. So into the house I went, freezing and irritated. I dressed in my NECKTIE charcoal-gray suit and put on my NECKTIE necktie. I left with an hour to spare.
The funny thing about ice storms and sub-freezing temps (single digits when I left) is that, it leaves ice around. Gotta be careful. I was. Others … not so much. I thought an hour would be plenty of time for me to reach my destination of Bison Orchard and arrive early for the interview. As it turned out, it was closer than I expected.
As I drove, the few suburbs that salted the roads caused saline mud puddles to form in the street. If you’ve never had the pleasure of driving through saline mud, it’s really fun. Every five minutes or so the windshield becomes so obscured you need to turn on the wipers and use the washer fluid to see. That’s fine most of the time, but when the wipers have been frozen, they don’t have the ability to stay in contact with the windows. LARGE patches of murky, salty crust remain where they don’t wipe. For me today, that meant about three-quarters of the windshield. Add to that driving south with the sun glaring on said salty crust, and the adrenaline factor goes much higher. Who needs caffeine anyway?
On top of that, add in the ice plug over one of my washer jets. Which one? The one on the driver’s side, of course. So I have a partially cleared windshield on the passenger side and a salt-crusted mud-cake on the side through which I need to see. Fortunately, I found the remnant of the ice plug on the jet that worked operated much like holding your thumb over partway over a hose. It shot the fluid in a spattering stream nearer the middle, and if I leaned over the console between the front seats, I could see. Not great, but it’d have to do.